Mixing up Trouble
by Angeladex
Summary: Hermione's quest to be the most awesome Hermione ever means, in her quest for knowledge, that she needs mentoring to excel in a subject...harder than Charms. Charms is awesome, and all, but not "Ministry Material." No DADA professors can mentor her (dead, crazy, no standing, not real, and no way in hell, in that order) So it has to be another subject. Potions. Set during HBP Canon.


Hermione Granger wondered how it had come to this. She sat nervously in the chair across from a large, ornate desk, wringing her hands anxiously in her lap. The desk was tidy, with only a few papers littering its large, dark brown surface, and the man sitting at it was intently reading the letter she'd given him from Professor Flitwick.

The desk, of course, belonged to none other than Severus Snape, and she found herself unusually apprehensive; she attributed it to the fact that, being a rule-keeper (for the most part, when it came to things like detentions and non life-threatening matters), she had never been summoned into Snape's office before.

Guilty thoughts kept entering her mind, and she tried to think of silly things to keep them at distance – Harry's occlumency lessons last year had left her with nothing if not a caution when it came to thinking mean things – or guilty things – when she was around Snape. She didn't want to be thinking of stealing from his personal stores of ingredients to make the Polyjuice Potion second year, or the mark she knew was on his left forearm, or the master he'd once served.

Snape tossed the letter almost carelessly into a small pile and finally addressed her. "Loathe as I am to accept what you so pretentiously refer to as your "help," astoundingly inadequate though it may be, I am also inclined to agree with Professor Flitwick –" here, Professor Snape paused to sneer "– that you will not get far into any magical career – especially a ministry career – without proper Potions experience. You can only get so far on books alone, Miss Granger. Therefore I expect you to not be a hindrance to my work."

"Th-thank you so much, Professor –"

"I'll thank _you_ to let me finish."

Hermione nodded, swallowing the stammering thanks for another few minutes. If she hadn't always spent her time helping Neville in potions…if she didn't always sit next to Ron and Harry – she would know more of how Professor Snape worked. She would know the little things about him that she knew about most of the other professors – the little things that would help her be on his good side.

Professor Flitwick, for example, loved it when his students just _tried_ the charms, no matter if they failed. So as long as she participated, he liked her, and graded her accordingly. Professor Sprout was adamant about following instructions. Professor McGonagall didn't tolerate silliness. Professor Binns just didn't like to be interrupted. And a lot of information on his tests was found in the footnotes.

All she knew about Professor Snape is how he liked the essays – perfect. She had to thoroughly read the Potions book every year to find subjects from which to draw information, and she couldn't make it too long – he'd once given her an 'Acceptable' on a very good paper – he'd written a note on the back, in his spiky handwriting: _'It would behoove you to follow instructions – I said two feet, and I meant two feet, Miss Granger. Four feet is intolerable.'_

She hurriedly shoved her thoughts aside once more as she focused on what Snape was saying.

"Now, it is unheard of for me to accept students into my N.E.W.T. program who merit anything less than an 'Outstanding' in the practicum, however –" Snape paused again, shooting a glare at Hermione, effectively silencing whatever objection she'd been about to utter. "—given the fact that Dumbledore himself came to sit in the very chair you occupy not twenty minutes ago and vouched for you, _and_ the fact that your scores were mere points away from being at 'Outstanding' level in your O,W,L,s, I _will_ make a very _rare_ exception, with some small changes."

Hermione, who was still clenching her jaws shut, even as Snape quirked an eyebrow at her, as if expecting her to break in again during his soliloquy, waited patiently for him to continue, and he finally did.

"Firstly, you will not attend my regular N.E.W.T. classes, as you are too young, and the class is already surprisingly full of seventh-year students. You will, instead, find time during your free periods to spend here. We can discuss the finer points of scheduling presently. Secondly, I expect a higher caliber of work from you, but you will not be writing essays, you will be brewing potions. That is where you have always lacked in my classes, and that is where your improvement is needed. I will provide ingredients; you must merely attend when you say you will."

Hermione nodded. It sounded fair.

"Thirdly…" Snape paused, a smirk playing on his lips. "Despite the opinion you and your…_friends_…have of me, I expect your attitude to be purely objective. I am what the students in this school would call, on a good day, a 'difficult professor to please.' This is true, but you must understand the vital importance of the art of Potion-making.

"It is not a cooking class. It is not a place for distraction. Brewing a Potion wrong is unacceptable, not only because it shows disrespect for me, as your professor, but disrespect for the very art itself. It is also unacceptable because it has very _dangerous_ consequences. Stirring incorrectly, or adding too much of an ingredient can easily turn a simple healing elixir into deadly poison."

Hermione slowly nodded again. It was perfectly logical. Why couldn't he be this succinct in class?

"That said, and all changes aside, the time you spend under my tutelage will hopefully prove most useful. If you are genuine about your reasons behind doing this, which, I sincerely expect you to be, I can prove a powerful advocate."

The pause was different, and Hermione, recognizing that he needed vocal assent, finally cleared her throat again. "Thank you, Professor Snape, for allowing me to study with you."

Snape's face was a mask, and Hermione wished he showed more emotion. "We shall see how this goes. It proves most…intriguing."

Hermione shrugged, and Snape finally looked away from her, opening a drawer in his desk. "My free period lands on Friday evenings between seven o'clock and eight-thirty. This is the time that will best fit _your_ schedule, so Professor McGonagall has so concisely informed me, unless you want to share my time with my dunce first-years in need of Remedial Potions lessons."

Hermione nodded quickly. "Fridays would be fine."

"It limits the potions we can brew, but I can find something suitable. In the meantime, please take this parchment and read it."

He passed a paper he'd pulled from his drawer to her, and she took it, looking it over. Her eyes widened in surprise. "But sir, this is –"

"You've covered the Fidelius Charm with Professor Flitwick, I assume?"

"Erm, yes, sir," Hermione muttered, reading the parchment disbelievingly.

_The private office of Severus Snape is located underneath the Student cupboards through a charmed tea-kettle. The password is 'antidisestablishmentarianism.'_

The handwriting was not Snape's own spiky script, nor did she recognize it as Dumbledore's curly letters. Who, then, was his secret-keeper? She knew that only a secret-keeper could have written the note, if it was what Snape said it was.

The parchment was abruptly snatched from her fingers, as Professor Snape wordlessly conjured a flame from his wand to destroy it.

"Shall we adjourn?"

"Adjourn, sir?"

"It is Friday, Miss Granger, and my free period has just opened up," Snape said curtly, indicating the large black clock that hung on the wall behind him. Almost on cue, it began to softly toll the hour. It was seven o'clock. "Unless you had something better to do with your time?"

He speared her with a look that she knew meant he'd think considerably less of her (which was really saying something) if she didn't acquiesce to his demand. Hermione felt a blush creeping into her face. She tried to hold it in check, though, determined to mask her emotions. (If he could do it, so could she.) She couldn't help the shrieking, indignant insult that formed in her mind, though, chastising him for being so good at making his students feel inferior.

-o-

_It was Professor Flitwick who'd been so insistent on it: She'd been so careful about taking diverse classes up to this point, but her Charms performance was really a stunning pinnacle of them all; she wasn't sure why, but Charms seemed to be her best subject, and looking at her O.W.L.s, it wasn't hard to see. _

"Unfortunately," _Professor Flitwick had intoned sadly,_ "A base in Charms is not what you want in a Ministry career. They expect strength in a more "difficult" subject. Your Transfiguration grades are adequate, and your Defense Against the Dark Arts grades are acceptable, but you need something else to offset your spectacular performance in my classes."

_Snape was really the only logical choice. He'd been a patron of Hogwarts for decades, and this, to the Ministry of Magic, was very reputable, especially considering just how many professors she'd had for Defense Against the Dark Arts, let alone the fact that none of them would be credible mentors…and none of them were really in a state to tutor her. Professor Quirrel was dead, Professor Lockheart was…well, he was sort of crazy, Professor Lupin had no standing with the Ministry of Magic, Professor Moody…well, he was sort of crazy too, come to think of it, and that left Professor Umbridge, who wouldn't help her if her life depended on it. _

_It had to be Snape. _

_She had explained this to Harry and Ron, who tried to understand, though Ron remained indignant, and Harry more subtly uncertain. Given their history with Snape, she could hardly blame them. His being their ally certainly didn't make him their friend. _

-o-

Hermione nodded tacitly – almost jerkily – and stood, gathering her things.

"You won't need those. Leave them here." Snape had stood as well, and was gliding around his desk in that eerily spectral-esque way that gave Ron the collywobbles. "Supposing anyone is dense enough to break into my classroom, they would hardly be after your schoolbag," Snape added, sneering disdainfully at it as he passed her and opened the door.

Hermione couldn't help the almost protective pat she gave the bag in question before gently depositing it the chair she'd vacated. She exited just after him, jumping in surprise when he motioned with his hand and the door slammed shut behind her, wards slamming into place automatically, the static making her hair stand on end. She gathered it into her hands in bunches, trying to pat the static out of it – the last thing she needed was to make her hair even bushier than it already was – this was the unfortunate moment Snape chose to look behind him to check if she was there.

He said nothing as he saw her struggling with the sheer volume of hair – just smirked in a way that confirmed her fears – he thought she was an idiot. She reddened pushing the offending hair back behind her shoulders, wishing she'd never asked him for help in the first place.

-o-

AUTHORS NOTE

I wanted to see if this was something people could potentially be invested in?

I started co-writing a story with a friend of mine in High School, and this is kind of based on some of our ideas.

Also, could be used as a "Starter" for a lot of the Severus/Hermione stuff I see about. It provides logical context (at least I hope it does) as to why they would be spending extra time together to develop any sort of relationship past what is canon in the series. Like, I'm all for shipping whatever, as long as it can make sense. So.

IDK!

Let me know! Review, send me a PM, whatever. I'm trying to be more active on this site, so I'll get the message, if you leave it. :)

~Angeladex


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